Walls of Sky and Sea
by santeria
Summary: Beth Latimer has lost everything. When a mysterious stranger offers her a new life and a mission, Beth takes it with both hands. Spoilers for Spyfall part 2!


**A/N**: **Spoilers for the ending of Spyfall Pt. 2, so don't read if you haven't watched!**

No spoilers for Broadchurch, and it's not necessary that you've seen it because the pertinent information is given. If you HAVE seen Broadchurch, know that it's been awhile since I've seen it so I completely forgot that Beth had a 3rd child, so that baby isn't mentioned here. Recent research has shown she was conflicted about keeping the baby so I guess she decided not to.

**Walls of Sky and Sea**

The sky was a darkening blue devoid of the clouds, and the sea was a deep blue below. In the distance they bled together, creating a hazy wall of blue. Her tears weren't helping. Her bare feet dug into the cold sand and she could feel gooseflesh on her arms. She should have worn a coat. What did it matter? The blue of the sky and sea looked like the edge of the world, and Beth was sitting alone and forgotten. She shivered and pressed her arms closer to herself, to the emptiness inside that had grown as they left.

First, her young son, murdered brutally. His grave was several years old now and the last time she had visited she had cleaned new moss from his headstone. Her daughter had escaped to university; she rarely rang, hardly visited. Chloe had been looking for a way out of Broadchurch for ages and when she'd found one she didn't look back, not even for her parents. And finally, Beth's husband. Danny's murder had ruined them, had revealed Mark's affair and Danny's secrets, and they had never recovered. With Chloe gone, there had been no reason for him to stay. Mark had kissed her on the forehead before he left, like she was his sister. People had already looked at her with pity, after Danny, and now whenever she went into town she could feel the smothering weight of the pity and uncertainty. No one knew what to say to her. What was left to say? Words couldn't bring back her family or heal what had broken inside her that day Danny died.

So here she was. What did one do when their life fell apart so completely? She had an idea that she didn't want to face, and she didn't know if she was brave enough to say it aloud, but her feet had carried her here to the empty beach on a cold evening. She didn't know if she would drown or freeze or if she was too weak to carry out the final act.

"I've never gotten used to this cold."

The voice, rich and deep, came out of nowhere. Beth hadn't heard anyone approaching, but in her state it was unlikely she would have heard a marching band. She jumped automatically, twisting in on herself and hunching down into the cold sand. She peered up through uncombed hair. A figure tall and lean towered over her. The face tilted down towards her, and Beth noted smooth dark skin and deep eyes that seemed to sparkle with a strange light. Broadchurch was a small town; strangers were a rarity, and Beth had never met a stranger so imposing before. Huddled into the sand at the stranger's feet, she felt small and weak. She tried to speak but her throat had gone dry.

"Sorry…" All she could manage. Her fingers clenched against her arms. She cleared her throat and tried again. "I didn't hear you."

The stranger looked blankly at her for a moment. Then they smiled, teeth glinting in the dusk, and reached out. "Come. It's too cold to parlay here. We will get something to eat."

Beth stared. What an odd way to talk! Who used the word 'parlay'? The last sentence had clearly been a command, and Beth found that her legs had been moving even while her brain was still trying to catch up. She felt wobbly, and when she had achieved a trembling stance the stranger placed their outstretched hand on her shoulder. The weight of it was steadying and the hand was warm and solid. The warmth seemed to bloom over her shoulder and traveled over her, soothing as if she had just eaten hot soup. Tears pricked her eyes again. She could hug the stranger, press that warmth all along her. Mark had been so cold before he left.

Maybe the stranger heard her thoughts, for the hand slid over Beth's back, and Beth found herself being held close to the stranger and steered towards the town. She wasn't thinking of her coat anymore, and it was only after she had stepped on to pavement that she realized she had left her shoes on the sand. She wondered how it would look; Beth Latimer, coatless and shoeless, in only a limp thin dress, being half-carried into town by a stranger. People would talk. It didn't matter, she decided. They had talked about her enough, and unless a miracle happened, she didn't think she was long for this world anyway. Let them talk.

Beth looked at her bare feet and let herself be led. The stranger was wearing fine leather black boots. Their long dark coat swirled around their ankles. She heard a murmuring as they passed the inn but kept her head down. She looked up only when they had entered the café and the stranger had seated Beth in a comfy blue chair in the back of the room. The café was mostly empty, save for a few teenagers. Jonas, the lanky teen running the register, looked askance at her before the stranger preoccupied him by ordering.

It was only when the stranger was returning with their drinks that Beth finally registered the stranger was a woman. Her head was shaved and she was dressed like a Londoner, stylish and classy. She was unquestionably gorgeous, and Beth tried not to stare. Her coffee provided a convenient distraction.

"Elizabeth Latimer."

The woman spoke Beth's name. Beth stilled. There was one reason the woman might know her name: it had been printed in the papers during the investigation into Danny's murder and the trial that followed. If the woman had come to talk about Danny or something related to that time… She was cold again. She couldn't talk about that. What had possessed her to follow this stranger? Her hands tightened around her coffee cup and her bare feet tapped the tile floor. She could run-

"My name is Nirtis. I've come to help you, if you'll let me."

Help her? Something like laughter forced its way up her throat. She forced it back down. "If you're with a support group, no thank you. I've tried that. Didn't work."

Nirtis ignored her. "What I'm about to say will sound mad. I can take away your pain, Beth. Give you a new life, a new purpose."

She felt almost angry now. She looked up at Nirtis. Her words felt bitter in her mouth. "Is this a church thing? Look, I'm as religious as the next person, but if that's your angle you can leave off!"

Nirtis smiled. She took a light sip of her steaming coffee and regarded Beth steadily. "There's still some fire in you. Good."

Confusion replaced Beth's anger. "What are you talking about?"

Nirtis set down her coffee cup and folded her hands. She rested her chin on her fingers and looked into Beth's eyes. Nirtis's dark eyes were unnaturally deep, and there was that strange light in them, like stars seen through a haze. Beth found that she couldn't look away. "I can give you the universe, Beth. I can give you all of space and time, the futures and the pasts, all the stars and planets that have ever existed or will exist. All you have to do is agree to forget. Forget this place, forget your family and your pain."

Beth wanted to say "What?" but her mouth couldn't move. Nirtis's deep gaze was arresting.

"You'll want to know why, of course. It's because we need an agent, and you need a purpose."

This was mad, of course. She'd lost her mind, must be stark raving. Wasn't that the thing about being mad? You couldn't tell if you were but everyone else could? Why else would a strange woman appear out of thin air and tell her about an alien race called Time Lords? It couldn't be real; she must be in hospital and not standing in a sleek, futuristic room that Nirtis had apparently teleported them to. The walls were a glittering white, hung with lush red and gold banners marked with symbols that Beth didn't understand. A large round table of dark wood dominated the room. Her legs were unsteady again. She ought to try to run or something, but her knees were jelly so she stood dumbly.

Nirtis stood at the table. Flat screens and gold-tinted panes of glass were arranged neatly on the tabletop. Nirtis picked up one of the panes and touched it. Lines appeared on the glass, more of those elegant symbols that looked like circles within circles. They were replaced by a series of pictures, and Nirtis walked over to Beth, still frozen, and held out the pane. "The code name," said Nirtis, "is the Doctor. These people have carried that name in the past."

Beth's hands shook as she took the glass. She imagined dropping it, shattering the images looking up at her. Thirteen men, ranging in age from mid-20s to possibly the 80s, stared out at her. She moved to touch their still faces. "Why them? What happened to them?" They had been human once, Nirtis had said. Like Beth, before the DNA rewrite that turned them half Time Lord. Before their miserable days had been replaced with lifetimes that had never happened.

Nirtis lowered her head. "The work is dangerous. The Doctor breaks rules that full Time Lords can't, and often the situations they find themselves in are… unstable. When one dies, the next agent, who is held in stasis until that time, replaces them. We have made it so that the replacement mimics our natural ability to regenerate into new bodies."

More questions sprang into Beth's had, but her original question was unanswered. "No, I mean… what happened to them to make them accept your offer?"

Nirtis paused. It was the first time Beth had seen her hesitate. "I cannot say specifics. What I do know is, they also lost everything. They had no reason to stay on Earth, no one to stay for. We gave them new life. We can do the same for you."

Thirteen faces. Had these men been scared? How long had it taken them to decide? "What if I say no?"

Nirtis did not look away. "I would return you to your home and erase your memory of this."

Home to Broadchurch. Frigid sea breezes and pitying stares. She shuddered. She thought of the sea, calling to her of death and oblivion, and she hated it. Anything would be better.

She stared at the thirteen men. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest. "What do I have to do?"

The Doctor stands in the burning sands of Gallifrey. Twin suns pull themselves slowly across the sky, her two hearts pound in her chest, and the Citadel burns in front of her. The heat from the sands is slowly permeating the thick leather of her boots. Feathers of still-cooling ash settle in her hair. The red sky and the orange sands bleed together in the distance, creating a hazy wall of flame. Her tears aren't helping. It looks like the edge of a world, and she stands on the outskirts of it, alone once more. She hadn't really believed she would find it like this, and now that she has she thinks she should rage and scream but she just _can't_. There's an emptiness inside of her and a coldness in her limbs. In spite of the heat, she shivers. She goes into her TARDIS and hunches on the step, drowned in soft blue light. She breathes, counts her hearts-beats, tries to arrange her emotions. She has a lot to think about, and even though she just wants to curl up and cry she knows that's not an option.

She has work to do.


End file.
